Chapter 2

Lizzie stood on the train platform and swallowed. The train loomed before her, a mechanical beast, its smoke stack belching vapour and its pistons like metal bones. Steam hissed around Lizzie’s ankles like dragon breath. Now that she actually had to get on it, the prospect of her first ever train journey was more terrifying than exciting.

‘Come on, Lizzie!’ called Nora and Erin together, sticking their heads out of the train window.

‘If you don’t get on the train, you’ll have to walk,’ Nora shouted.

‘And it’s a long way to Whitby!’ added Erin.

All around Lizzie, the circus people were climbing on board, chatting excitedly and hauling bulging bags. Many of them were waving out of the windows, shouting to late arrivals to hurry up.

Lizzie just stood as if she’d been turned to stone. She stared at the gap between the station platform and the carriage. People must fall down there all the time, she imagined. They must get sliced to pieces by those huge iron wheels.

Malachy was already on board. ‘The Maharaja’s hired a whole train, just for us! Isn’t it marvellous?’ he’d said to her, just before barging past everyone else in a mad scramble to be one of the first on board. Well, Lizzie didn’t think it was marvellous. It was a monstrous thing, this locomotive, hissing and clanking, and stinking of scorched metal like an iron left too long in the fire.

‘They explode, they do,’ Lizzie muttered to herself. ‘I’ve read it in the papers. The boilers go bang. Terrible tragedy. Hundreds dead.’

‘Lizzie, come on! You’ll miss it!’

‘I’ll just be a minute,’ she shouted to Nora.

She took a deep breath, counted to three and took a single bold step towards the train. Just then, the whistle went off with a sound like a screaming banshee and the smoke stack let out a belch of white steam. Lizzie squealed in horror and scrambled back away from it. She sat down on a bench, panting heavily.

Dru sauntered past, wearing a frock coat and looking every inch the young gentleman. He either hadn’t seen her or was pretending he hadn’t, but either way he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to her with a smile. ‘Ah, Lizzie. This is your first time on a train, n’est-ce pas?’

‘It will be, if I ever get on the bloomin’ thing.’

Dru crossed the platform, stepped onto the train and held out his hand. ‘Come, ma chère amie. Do not worry. I will protect you.’

Without a second thought, Lizzie stormed towards him. She ignored his hand and left it hanging in the air as she stepped up, pushed past him and threw herself into the carriage. She flopped down into the nearest seat, alongside Nora and Erin who squealed with glee.

Dru followed her into the carriage and raised an eyebrow at Lizzie. ‘Girls,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Always contradictory.’

‘It’s only a train,’ Lizzie scoffed. Her heart was hammering as she smoothed down her skirt and crossed her legs. Then she uncrossed them and sat her bag on her lap. How were you supposed to sit in a train carriage, anyway?

A station guard waved a flag and blew a quick peep-peep on his whistle. Erin grinned at her. ‘We’ll start moving any minute!’

‘We’ll be in Yorkshire tomorrow morning, just one day after we left Oxford,’ Nora said. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s magic. Like something out of Tales of the Arabian Nights.’

‘The Maharaja isn’t Arabian,’ Dru said. ‘He’s Indian.’

‘He’s rich is what he is!’ said Erin, laughing. ‘And he knows exactly what to do with his money. When I’m rich, I’ll hire whole trains for my friends to ride around in too.’

The train lurched forwards.

‘Oh Gawd!’ Lizzie gasped, frantically grabbing her seat. ‘Oh blimey. Make ’em stop. I’ve got to get off.’

‘Don’t be daft, Lizzie,’ said Nora. ‘Relax. Enjoy the ride.’

‘Enjoy the ride?’ Lizzie repeated as if Nora had told her to eat a tasty frog. ‘You’re barmy. Oh Gawd, we’re going even faster!’

‘We haven’t even left the station,’ Dru pointed out.

Lizzie covered her face and moaned. She stayed that way for a whole minute. Then she asked, ‘Are we in Yorkshire yet?’

‘Lizzie, seriously now, calm down,’ Nora said, putting an arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. ‘We’ll be on this train for a good few hours to come, so you’d best get used to it and stop acting the cod.’

Lizzie slowly lowered her hands. She looked out of the window and caught a last glimpse of the train station. She desperately wished she was plodding along on her shabby caravan, which she’d taken to calling Old Jemima.

‘It can’t be safe,’ she whispered. ‘It just can’t. God didn’t mean for us to go this fast. It ain’t natural.’

She gripped her seat and stayed clamped there like a crab as the train chugged out of Oxford and picked up speed. Town buildings gave way to green fields and hedgerows as the countryside volleyed past. At first Lizzie felt like she was trapped on a carriage pulled by mad runaway horses, but after a while she started getting used to the sensation. Her fingers gradually relaxed their grip, her breathing slowed down and her heart stopped trying to batter its way out of her ribcage.

Cows and sheep shot past the window. Not enough time to count them. From across the rattling, swaying carriage, Dru gave her a smile.

Malachy and Hari appeared at the door to their compartment. ‘Guess who’s been up the front with the driver?’ Malachy said proudly.

‘Rather you than me,’ Lizzie muttered.

Malachy ignored her. ‘He reckons I’m a natural!’

‘Just in time for a picnic, Mal, now the gang’s all here,’ Nora said. She and Erin unpacked a wicker basket, laying out sandwiches, sausages, an Irish potato dish called ‘colcannon’ made with spring onions and cream, and the remains of last night’s cake.

‘You go ahead,’ Malachy said. ‘I need to check Dad’s accounts.’ He opened a fat ledger and ran his finger down the columns of figures, muttering sums to himself.

The Penny Gaff Gang eagerly tucked in, and somewhere in the middle of her third slice of cake, Lizzie somehow forgot all about being scared of the train.

‘Your mum makes the best cake in the world,’ she said, licking her fingers.

‘This isn’t even her best!’ Erin said. ‘Just you wait until our birthday. The cake she makes then … oh, you’ll die. Of pure pleasure!’

‘Just over a week to go!’ Nora said, her voice rising to an excited squeak.

‘The day after the big Whitby show,’ said Erin. ‘So don’t go making any big plans, because there’s going to be a party, and of course you’re invited.’

‘When’s your birthday?’ Nora asked, turning to Lizzie. ‘We need to throw you a party.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t like parties,’ Erin threw in.

‘Don’t be daft. Everyone likes parties. Or maybe there’s something you do instead? Something special?’ Nora continued, still looking at Lizzie.

Erin eyed her friend askance. ‘What do you do on your birthday?’

‘Don’t do anything,’ Lizzie said with a sigh.

‘What?’ the twins said, horrified.

‘Back in Rat’s Castle, nobody cared about birthdays. They were just like any other day. I’ve never even been to a birthday party, let alone had one of my own.’

Erin and Nora looked shocked, then hugged her, one on each side. ‘We’re going to do something about that,’ Nora said. ‘Aren’t we, Erin?’

‘That’s right.’

The narrow streets and mean, grimy rooms of London’s Rat’s Castle slum were a long way away now. Sometimes, in her dreams, Lizzie would think she was back there. Pa would loom over her again, his breath stinking of beer and his rough fists brandished in her face. It had been a hungry, frightened life for a young girl, with no hope in sight. There were plenty of children still there, trapped behind the cracked, grimy windows.

Then salvation had come, parading through the streets in gold and glitter – Fitzy’s Travelling Circus, filled with the most marvellous, unusual people Lizzie had ever known. Back then, people like the Amazon Queen and the World’s Smallest Woman had been things of wonder to Lizzie. Now they were her friends.

I’ll always be in Fitzy’s debt, she thought to herself. He took me on before I showed any sign of having psychic powers, just out of the goodness of his heart.

Suddenly Fitzy was there in person, poking his head round their compartment door and grinning just like Malachy. ‘Everyone enjoying the ride?’

‘It’s fantastic!’ Malachy yelled.

‘Smashing!’ said Nora and Erin together.

Dru shrugged and stretched his strong arms over his head. ‘It’s a very relaxing way to travel, Fitzy. I might even take a petit nap.’

‘And you, Lizzie?’

Lizzie smiled weakly. ‘Didn’t fancy it at first, but I’m getting used to it.’

‘We’re on the road to riches, my young friends,’ Fitzy said, rubbing his hands together. ‘A royal command performance! Did you all know the Maharaja is one of Queen Victoria’s favourites? Hopefully he’ll tell all his rich friends about our circus.’ He rubbed the fabric of the seat cushions and smiled approvingly. ‘If the cash keeps coming in like this, we can buy a train of our own. A circus train. The first of its kind in the country.’

Malachy looked up from the accounts ledger. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dad.’

‘Woo woo!’ cried Fitzy, tooting an imaginary train whistle. ‘Oh, Hari, I nearly forgot. Your uncle Zezete needs your help back in the animal carriage.’

Hari leaped to his feet. ‘Are the animals all right?’

‘Oh, none of them are hurt. They’re just not getting into the spirit of the train ride like you young things are.’

‘They’re scared,’ Hari said, quickly swallowing his last bite of cake. ‘I’ll be right there.’

Lizzie felt a pang. Poor animals – they didn’t understand what was happening to them. They weren’t used to the strange smells and horrible noises, and the rocking and swaying about. She knew exactly how they felt.

‘Hang on, Hari,’ she called after him. ‘I’ll come too.’

Akula the elephant lay on her side in the straw. Her legs twitched and kicked erratically, like a dog dreaming of chasing rabbits. Her eyes were full of fear and her body trembled as if she were freezing cold.

‘She’s petrified!’ Lizzie said. ‘We’ve got to do something!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Hari told her. She knew he wasn’t angry; he was just letting her know how best to calm the elephant. Hari knelt down by Akula’s huge head and stroked her trunk gently. ‘There now, my lovely. Calm now. All’s well.’

‘What can I do?’

‘Stroke her ears, slowly. She likes that.’

Together, they soothed Akula. Hari sang Indian songs, weaving melodies that sounded strange and beautiful to Lizzie. All the notes went up and down like fireflies dancing. She didn’t understand a word, of course, but the syllables were softly enchanting, with the dark beauty of peacock feathers and gleaming jewels.

When Zezete came in, bringing a bucket of feed, he said nothing at first. He squatted down and watched her and Hari at work together. When Akula fell into a happy sleep, he smiled.

‘You have a real gift for working with the elephants, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘If you ever grow tired of being the circus’s fortune-teller, you can always join us as an animal handler.’

‘I like the songs you were singing,’ she told Hari. ‘Are they from India?’

‘No, Lizzie,’ Hari said, his face very serious. ‘They are from the moon.’

Lizzie stared, then cracked up laughing. ‘Ask a silly question! So … do you two know anything about the Maharaja, then? He’s Indian, isn’t he? Fitzy says he’s one of Queen Victoria’s favourites!’

Zezete spat on the floor and muttered something harsh-sounding. He wasn’t speaking English. Hari glanced nervously at his uncle, then looked down. Lizzie had the creeping feeling that she’d said something foolish.

‘I need to feed the camels,’ Zezete said, in English this time. His voice was colder than Lizzie had ever heard it before. Next second, he was gone without a backward glance.

‘Hari, I didn’t mean—’

‘I know,’ Hari interrupted. ‘He knows too. He won’t be angry with you. But you’d best let him cool off.’

‘What did I do?’

Hari sighed. ‘It’s a long story. Ugly too. You’re sure you want to hear it?’

‘Yes!’

They leaned against Akula’s back as she slept, while Hari patiently explained.

‘Gurinder Bhatti may be the latest society favourite here in England, but to us Indians he’s a traitor. He was a prince of Punjab, but he sold his country to the British East India company.’

Lizzie struggled to imagine selling a whole country to a foreign power.

‘He gave England the Khyber Diamond too. All that stuff your queen says about India being the jewel in her crown? That jewel’s stolen property, and the likes of Gurinder Bhatti are responsible.’

‘But … he seemed so nice.’ Lizzie could hardly believe the jolly man had betrayed millions of Indians, all for money.

‘Oh, he knows how to play the part of the dashing prince,’ Hari said sourly. ‘He’s handsome and wealthy, the toast of British high society and friends with Queen Victoria, but he’s not exactly popular back home!’